


Blood and Cedars

by ChibiFrieza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiFrieza/pseuds/ChibiFrieza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is concussed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Cedars

Sam woke up lying on his back.

There were tree roots under him, digging into his spine in random undulations. They hurt more than he thought tree roots generally should; probably, then, he was already marked. Felt like bruises, but he’d know more when he tried to move.

He wasn’t going to try to move yet.

He opened his eyes. It was less difficult than he had feared. Blinking, he took in the cool green light, the slanted sunbeams, the trees towering over him. Cedars, stretching above him for miles, apparently. He could smell them, sharp in the moist air.

 _Cedars of Lebanon_ , he thought fuzzily. He wasn’t sure why his brain thought that was relevant.

It was quiet, but not troublingly so. He heard distant twittering, the occasional scuffle of a small animal, the breeze in the cedars. Nothing larger, nothing more distinct.

He rolled over onto his left side, and a sharp pain in his ribs pulled a small involuntary noise out of him, throaty and pained. Grimacing, feeling the skin of his face pull oddly with the shift, he pushed himself to a sitting position, propped up on one arm. Everything seemed to work okay, just a little more slowly than he’d like, including his brain. He reached up and felt at his head, throbbing now with the exertion, and found the knot that had leaked blood all down his face. _Concussed_ , he decided. It made him feel a little better about the way he was having trouble with coherent thought, the same way running is difficult in dreams.

Around him, the ground and the undergrowth were all torn up, and there was more blood. He didn’t think it was all his. Whatever had done this, it wasn’t around anymore. Peering around, he saw what looked like a trail off to his right, evidence of the passage of some large conflict.

Dean must have drawn it off somehow.

A bolt of anxiety transfixed him. Where was his brother? Sam was sitting here with a concussion, probably some broken ribs, and his brother was off somewhere without backup, and he couldn’t even remember what they’d been hunting or where.

It hurt to breathe.

Nothing was registering the way it should, and by now he thought he should really be used to that, but every concussion was new, paired with different injuries. The ribs in his back were finally making known their distress, and it was not helping him think straight.

He shuffled himself over to the nearest tree, intending to use it to stand, but by the time he’d crossed the three feet it took, his head was spinning a bit, and he needed a minute.

 _Lebanon_ , said his brain again, and suddenly he remembered the rest. Oregon. Missing girl from Lebanon, hiking in Willamette National Forest. Seventh missing person in the area in a month, annual pattern going back for years. A live witness, badly torn up and convinced he was insane.

Sam groaned out a fraction of a laugh, because how had he forgotten preparing to hunt a Sasquatch? Dean had been impossible to shut up, full of false sympathy, _It’s too bad, Sammy, but your cousin’s been eating people, we gotta put a stop to it_ and _Are you sure you’ll be able to pull the trigger? Don’t freeze up on me, now, just ‘cause it’s a relative_ and they didn’t even know what kind of ammo would work, they’d just brought everything and started with silver.

The fight was still a blur. He remembered getting off a shot or two, Dean’s shout, not much else.

 _Dean_. The thought of his brother got him to his feet, clutching at the trunk of the tree. Once his head got accustomed to the elevation, he looked around for his shotgun. Not far. Good. He felt in his pockets for extra shells. Still there. Good.

He retrieved his gun, got his bearings again, then headed in the direction of the broken trail.

Five steps, and a faint sound had him stopping in his tracks with a hand on the next tree.

It sounded like a voice.

Sam strained to listen, filtering out the ambient sounds that hadn’t really changed since he’d regained consciousness. There were new sounds behind that, sounds of movement. Not close, not yet, but moving toward him.

Then the voice again, faint and unintelligable, but unmistakeable.

“ _Dean!_ ” he hollered. Dean would come to him. He didn’t have to go anywhere, not yet. He leaned his back against the cedar, looked up its length as he listened again. The movement seemed to stop, then:

“Sam?” Barely audible, barely a word, but it was there.

“Dean, I’m here!”

The movement picked up again, Dean crashing a beeline through the undergrowth. Nothing else with him, nothing larger. The Sasquatch was dead, then.

A few more shouts, checking direction, and then Dean was in sight, careening down the slope and across the wrecked clearing.

“Dean.”

“Sammy, thank God.” There was blood on Dean’s face, too, but he was moving normally. He didn’t stop until he was right there, right in front of Sam, shotgun in his right hand, left hand reaching. “You okay?” His fingers found the lump, wincing along with Sam. “That can’t be good. Eyes.” Sam opened them wide, focusing on his brother’s face with difficulty. “Damn. Anything else?”

“Ribs,” Sam managed. “Back right.”

“But you can walk.” Without waiting for confirmation, Dean pulled Sam’s arm across his shoulders and slid his other arm low around Sam’s waist, still holding the shotgun, wrist pressing his brother’s hip for support. “Let’s go.”

“Is it dead?” He knew it was kind of a stupid question, but he had to ask.

“Dead and torched.” There was deep satisfaction in Dean’s tone.

“Good.”

It was a long way back to the car.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [Livejournal](http://chibifrieza.livejournal.com/400131.html). Thank you for reading; comments are appreciated!


End file.
